


You Belong To Me

by darcystaserrocks



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-29 19:23:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1009121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darcystaserrocks/pseuds/darcystaserrocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jim Moriarty decides that it's time for the flirting to end, Sherlock finds himself not totally sickened by the idea. Sebastian, however, quickly grows tired of the game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You, essentially, work for me.

Jim was only attracted by two things, ever. Intelligence- and that meant true intelligence, one that rivalled his own, and that beautiful loyalty that his sniper had for him. Of course, the problem with Sebastian Moran was that as attractive and loyal and cunning as he was, he couldn’t compete with a mind like Sherlock Holmes’. Sebastian knew this. He knew his employer was only with him to pass the time and relieve his boredom, but that didn’t mean that when Jim found excuses to bring Holmes up in conversation he didn’t get annoyed. Sometimes Jim wouldn’t even be that subtle. He’d lift a perfectly shaped eyebrow and observe Sebastian silently, before shaking his head and turning away. Or flat out telling the ex-soldier that he wasn’t as good as the consulting detective. This boiled Sebastian’s blood, and made him lash out, either swearing and pushing Jim against the wall while the Irishman giggled and growling that he’d “show you who’s better”. Or storming away to get drunk and get in a fight.

So  when Jim ordered Sebastian to go to Baker Street and bring Holmes back to the flat, he flat out refused, much to his boss’ annoyance.  
“It wasn’t a request, Moran.” Jim said, narrowing his eyes, “I told you to go and get Sherlock.” He glared at the sniper, his large dark eyes cold. Boring into Sebastian’s soul.   
“Fine.” He snapped, turning on his heel and disappearing out of the flat to do as he was told. In the car, he realised Jim hadn’t told him Holmes had to be in any particular condition… His lip curled as he thought about the prospect he could work out some of his issues onto the skinny detective. His fingers curled around the steering wheel even tighter and his face was lit up by a cruel smirk.

As it turned out, he couldn’t do anything when he reached the Baker Street flat, as no one was home. Annoyed and frustrated, he paced the small living room, aggravated by the similarity in décor to Jim’s own tastes. He even had a skull. Finally, just as Sebastian was about to give up, the door opened downstairs. He stood stock still, waiting to hear who it was. The Housekeeper… Mrs Hudson, was it? She was talking to someone. Sebastian prayed that it wasn’t John Watson, the Doctor was annoying and boring, but he didn’t feel like having to knock him out as well. But when the door to the flat opened, it was revealed that it was, in fact, Sherlock Holmes.

Sebastian’s lip curled as the detective’s eyes ran over him, and he stepped inside, closing the door behind him and removing his jacket.   
“You’re here for Moriarty.” He stated, an almost bored tone in his voice. Sebastian decided that, just to cover his own arse, he would make him an offer, when he refused, as he surely would, he’d be able to use as much force as he wanted, and that was always fun.   
“He wants to see you. You gonna come?” He asked, but he didn’t give the man time to answer before Sebastian’s fist was making a painful connection with his abdomen. “No? Well that’s a shame.” He said, moving his other hand to block Sherlock’s attempt at retaliation and lifting his knee to the other’s crotch, bringing a cry of pain from the brunet. “Because now I’m going to have to persuade you…”  
  
Half an hour later,  Sebastian carried an unconscious and bloodied Sherlock into Jim’s flat, tossed him onto the sofa and lifted his gaze to meet his employer’s. Jim had expected this, of course. Sebastian was a jealous lover, and Sherlock was the only real threat to him. It was quite amusing, actually, when he thought about it. Especially when he was faced with evidence of the man’s temper.   
“Now, now, Tiger. I hope you haven’t caused that beautiful brain any permanent damage.” He said, his voice annoyingly calm. “If he can’t talk when he wakes up…” He paused, his voice colder when he continued, “You’ll regret it.”

Sebastian remained silent for the entire 10 minutes it took the unconscious man to wake up. This annoyed Jim infinitely, and he was almost completely out of patience by the time Sherlock stirred. He shot Sebastian a warning glance, and took a step towards the couch.   
“I trust no permanent damage has been done, Sherlock. I’m afraid my dog can get a little over-zealous.” He didn’t have to look over his shoulder to know that Sebastian’s cheeks would be bright red with anger, “How about you sit up, hmm?” His voice was… sweet. He was being sweet. Biding his time, playing the game. Sherlock sat up, eyes flicking to Sebastian for a moment before resting on Jim.  
“What am I doing here, Moriarty?” He asked, his voice  as calm as ever, he even had the nerve to look bored.   
“You’re here because I’m fed up with this game.” Jim threw himself onto the sofa beside the consulting detective, and Sebastian felt his stomach churn. “This to-ing and fro-ing. This flirting… It’s dull.” Jim’s lips curled into a smirk as he spoke. “Besides, I figured that since without you, my job would be easier and therefore much more tedious, and without me you would barely have a chance to leave your flat… well, I figured you, essentially, work for me.”

“Oh, I see, because no one else commits crime. Of course, how silly of me.” Sherlock said, rolling his eyes and making a move to stand up.  
“Sit. Down.” Jim ordered his voice layered with the authority that Sebastian was used to, but Holmes wasn’t, and both criminals saw the moment’s hesitation in his face, but he did as he was told, and that made Jim smile broadly. “Good boy.” He said, chuckling and patting the detective’s leg. Sherlock’s eyes fell to the hand on his knee, and even after Jim had withdrawn his hand he stared at it.   
“What am I doing here, Moriarty?” He asked again, slowly lifting his gaze.   
“You’re here because… I think you know.” There was a silence, Jim smirking at Sherlock, Sherlock staring in disbelief at Jim. Sebastian took the opportunity to leave, fists clenched. He was tired of feeling unworthy, of just being another plaything, another toy. He actually gave a damn about Jim and that hurt, because it seemed like Jim would never think of him as anything other than the hired gun.

 

 


	2. Alone At Last

With Sebastian out of the way, Jim stood up, standing before him and leaning down, hands either side of Sherlock’s head, pinning him to the sofa.   
“When we first met… officially, of course, I asked if you were pleased to see me, you said yes.” With that he leaned in and kissed the other man. It wasn’t gentle, or romantic, or sweet. It wasn’t brutal or forced either, it was just… a kiss. Sherlock pulled back first, alarmed and not a little annoyed.   
“Stop it.” He growled, but Jim just chuckled again, trailing a slim finger down Sherlock’s chest,   
“Oh, but why should I stop, hmm? Because the big bad detective told me to? How dull.” He rolled his eyes and straightened up, turning his back on Sherlock and walking to the mantelpiece.   
  
He leaned on arm on it, looking almost insultingly casual as he nonchalantly cast his eye over the room before landing on the dark haired man still sitting on the sofa.   
“You see, Sherlock, there’s been a distinct lack of fun around here lately. For me anyway. You, it seems, have had other things to attend to. You’ve been neglecting our little game, and try as he might that Lestrade just doesn’t have what it takes.” The Irishman let his arm drop to his side and slipped his hands into his pockets, standing before the detective again  and looking down at him. “I hate to admit it, Sherlock, my dear, but I’ve actually grown quite fond of that brain of yours.” The man’s pale hands were removed from his pockets as he crouched before Sherlock, fingers trailing a gentle path from his knee up his thigh- at least until Sherlock seemed to register what was happening and stood up.

 

“I said stop it.” He snarled, although part of his fury was born out of the frightening realisation that he had been quite alright sitting there with Moriarty’s hands on him. “Besides,” He glanced over his shoulder at the door Sebastian had, not long ago, disappeared through, “You’re, uh, pet, was showing clear signs.” His cool blue eyes turned back on the criminal, an eyebrow raised and the faintest hint of a sneer on his lips, “Sleeping with your employees, Jim? It’s highly cliché.” Sherlock was highly amused by the glare which flashed across  the shorter man’s features before he settled his expression into one of disinterest.   
“Oh, Sebastian’s just a distraction.” He said, mildly, placing one hand on Sherlock’s chest, “I do what I like with whomever I like, Sherly.” The pet name came out as a snarl as he applied pressure to the man’s chest, causing him to collapse back into his seat. Sherlock had to admit he was impressed with the force Moriarty had used, surprised by his strength. “Which is why you’re here.” Jim snapped, “You’re going to do what I tell you to do and you’re not going to fight me.” The anger which had been boiling so near to the surface cooled, and faded away to be replaced with a cruel smirk. “You saw how much my Tiger dislikes you, Sherlock, and that was against orders. We wouldn’t want my good little soldier to catch wind that I actually want you hurt, would we hm?”

 

As he had been speaking, he had slipped his arms around Sherlock’s neck, and was now straddling him, stroking the man’s cheek as he cooed the last words, speaking as though to a lover. Sherlock was tense beneath the consulting criminal’s body, but, while his mind was racing for a rational explanation, he couldn’t find one. Yes, he felt threatened, yes, he was aware that his situation was rather dire, but he didn’t feel like he thought he should. In order to keep the other man from realising that an inner battle was going on, Sherlock settled his face into an expression of hate. But this only made Jim laugh,   
“Oh, Sherlock, you’re really trying to pretend this isn’t exciting?” He breathed, lips grazing the other consultant’s earlobe as he spoke, “Trying to pretend you’re not… ok with this?” He didn’t give him time to answer, however, before he took hold of his chin in a vice-like grip, for he was deceptively strong, and kissed him.

 

~***~

 

From the next room, Sebastian could hear everything. Not because the walls of the flat were thin, or because he was standing with his ear pressed against the door. No, he could see and hear every word that was exchanged between the two men due to the fact that Jim himself had installed cameras. It was a security precaution, and it allowed him to watch consultations back after the client had left to get more information. But now Sebastian was glaring at the screens, angry and hurt that his employer was doing this. The sniper tensed when he was mentioned, his fingers curling into fists at the bloody entitlement of Holmes’ fucking smugness. But then Jim replied, and though Sebastian wanted to believe that what was being said was merely a front- a ruse to throw that bloody detective off the scent… he knew it was the truth. Jim only ever seemed interested when there was nothing else going on, and Sebastian was always the one to initiate. Here he was, pining after his boss while that very same employer was snogging someone else just a few feet away. He felt sick, he felt used and abused and disgusted. But what could he do?

 

 


End file.
